


The New Light of Morning

by Amoris



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amoris/pseuds/Amoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one noticed the little princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Light of Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to FF.net and LJ on 07.17.10
> 
> Written for Jestana's comment_fic prompt: "Azkadellia, meet your new sister."

It was near dawn when Azkadellia was jarred from her bed by no sound she would ever be able to identify. As the annuals passed, her mind would always fill in with some reverberating bang; after all, in what other way would DG ever be born into the world?

At the start of the new day, Az flouted the rules and crept from her room, quiet as a mouse. The lamps in the hall were all burning low, and too many people were about for so early, there was too much movement. Somewhere, someone was crying and trying to hide it.

Worried now, Az moved in the opposite direction of the wet, muffled sobs.

No one noticed the little princess; nonetheless, she hid quite gracelessly as two women in maids' dress began coming at her from opposite ends of the corridor. She'd barely tucked herself away behind a dusty drapery before the women were exchanging words in hurried passing.

"The child?"

"A girl."

"Oh, Gods save us."

After that, Az moved no further. Something in the air was making her stomach turn, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to her own bed and hide, but her feet were rooted too deeply to her suffocating hiding place to consider moving on their own.

She heard voices she recognised, but none encouraged her to speak out, to ask the too-big questions that were burning inside her chest. She heard her teacher, and her mother's favourite advisor – the one her father called 'the low man'. Her father himself was nowhere in sight – not that she poked her head out to take a look. Until she worked up the nerve to step out, she was stuck.

That all changed when a pair of feet stopped outside her hiding place. "Well," said the familiar voice, "what have we here?"

Azkadellia gasped as the carved cane head pushed aside the drapery that had been brushing against her nose. Staring at her with kindest eyes, the old man gave her a crooked smile.

"I thought perhaps I had found a ghost," he said, pointing the head of his cane now at her white nightgown and slippered feet.

Even at only seven annuals, Azkadellia was wise enough not to be distracted by his words, and bright enough to know that his presence meant something; the memory of the crying woman came back to her. "Why are you here, sir?" she asked.

"Well," the old man said slowly, but instead of answering, he gave her that same smile meant to be comforting. She knew better and did not smile in return. "Why don't you come with me?" he asked her, and offered her his hand. She stared at it until he retracted it, but followed him quietly anyway. He led her to a room that she had thought empty until now; two guards were stationed outside of it.

At the approach of the old mystic and little princess, the two men looked uncertain.

"It's all right," the old man said to them. With an uneasy glance at each other, the guards stood down, and one opened the door for the mystic and princess to pass. The room was dark, but a pale haze was filtering in through the windows. Soon, the suns would rise.

The mystic smiled at her once again, ever trying to settle her apprehension. This time, however inexplicably, Azkadellia returned the smile, and her eyes followed the old man's outstretched hand to the center of the room, where a cradle had been set and draped with white lace. Her heart sang; all the worry and fear dissipated instantly.

"There is someone," he said with a sadness she did not recognise now, "I think you ought to meet."


End file.
